


2:30am

by avintagekiss24



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2018 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coffee, Diners, F/M, Late Night Conversations, Late at Night, POV Female Character, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 11:41:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16367216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avintagekiss24/pseuds/avintagekiss24
Summary: You and Steve enjoy a cup of coffee.





	2:30am

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Happy Steve Bingo card 2018 - "Coffee"

You wipe your hands on your towel and check the old clock that hangs on the opposite wall. It’s going on two twelve am. He’ll be here soon. You smile to yourself, tucking some loose hair behind your ear before you get busy by cleaning the counter. You check on the rowdy table in the back, teenagers all decked out in their finest after their prom. Their laughing and excitement makes you smile again, reminding you of your own youth and of the times where you had no responsibilities and no worries in sight. You then move to the old man on the other side of the diner, sipping on his tea, reading the paper, and munching on his crispy bacon. He’s a regular. He’s been coming here for as long as you’ve moonlighted as a waitress and for many more years before that. 

 

You glance at the clock again; two twenty two. You move back behind the counter and start a fresh pot of coffee, just for him. Who eats at a diner at two in the morning in New York City? All your friends ask, wondering why, night after night, year after year, you stay at this little dump. Old men and over the hill superhero’s, that’s who. You always smile as your mind wanders to the mysterious blonde stranger with the long eyelashes. He usually comes by himself, but sometimes, he brings his long haired friend with him. You recognized the two instantly, who wouldn’t? Their faces were plastered all over the news papers after that deadly explosion last year at the UN. Bucky Barnes was public enemy number one. But when he walked in behind the stoic Steve Rogers, he was anything but. He was quiet and respectful as you took their orders, barely making eye contact with you, his voice low and soft. 

 

Steve was the same, just a little more direct. He made square eye contact with you. His yes ma’am, no ma’ams’ were confident but gentle. He was just as sweet as pie; they both were. Contrary to the stories of them punching and kicking and shooting their way through a herd of nazis or being a world class assassin. Steve came pretty regularly after that, usually at the same time, and always ordered the same thing; a black coffee, strong. He’d sometimes pair it with a piece of apple pie or a bowl of vanilla ice cream but usually, it was just cup after cup of black coffee as he stared out the window or doodled in his small notebook. One night, and you’re not even sure why, you stopped by his table and thanked him. 

 

“For what?” He asked softly as he looked up at you behind that blonde hair.

 

“Just for everything you do. For keeping us safe.”

 

The two of you didn’t speak another word that night. He got up and left after another hour or two, and when you went by his table to collect his empty coffee cup, there was a note scribbled on the back of the receipt, along with a forty dollar tip.  _ No ma’am, thank you.  _ You don’t know why he thanked you, you’re not off saving the world. But, unlike the rest, maybe it’s because you treat him like a person. Not a commodity or a celebrity. You just serve him his coffee and leave him be. You glance over at the clock again, just as the door chimes as it opens. You don’t even look up. You just turn and move toward the coffee pot, pulling it from its home and grab two cups. You motion toward Jose, the short order cook, and he nods back toward you, winking. You move toward his favorite table and place the two cups on the surface, pouring the steaming black nectar into the mug as he brushes by you to sit.

 

You slide into the seat of the booth opposite him, pouring your own cup before sitting the pot down. You pick your eyes up toward him for the first time to find him staring at you, like he usually does, a slight smile on his face. 

 

“Hi.” You say softly and simply, letting out a breath through your nose that you weren’t aware you were holding.

 

“Hi.” He answers, his own smile growing.

 

He holds the hot mug in his hands as he watches you perform surgery on yours. You pull three sugars out of the small, black holder and shake them thoroughly before tearing off the tops and tipping them over the black liquid. You then move for the tiny creamers, plucking two from the small bowl that sits near the window and pour them one by one. You grab a spoon and being to stir, watching the coffee go from jet black to  caramel brown. You finally bring your cup to your lips and he does the same, waiting. You glance up at each other and hold your gazes as you both take your first sip. You set your cups down at nearly the same time, the sound of the glassware connecting with the tabletop is comfortable and familiar.

 

The kids behind you burst into laughter again at something on one of their phones. You turn slightly, watching them over your shoulder as Steve does the same, “They look nice. Prom night?” He asks, taking another sip.

 

“I think so. They’ve been here since about midnight.”

 

“At least they’re not out getting into trouble.” You laugh lightly, “They’re not giving you any trouble are they?”

 

You roll your eyes a little, playfully, “No. They’ve been better than most adults.”

 

His aptitude for justice and order is overwhelming at times but, it is so  _ him _ . You like it. You turn back toward him and rest your elbows on the table, wrapping your hands around your warm cup. You bring it up to your mouth but you don’t drink right away. You just look over at him as he gazes out of the window, lost in thought. The steam from his black coffee rises slowly and moves into the air before dissolving before your eyes. You take a slow sip, humming slightly as the sugary drink settles into your stomach. You’re not sure what you two are doing. Every night, well, mostly every night, when he’s not off in space fighting aliens and outside threats, for the last six months, the two of you sit together at two thirty in the morning and drink coffee. Sometimes you two talk a lot, other times not so much. Tonight is the obviously the latter. You like  _ him _ . You’re not exactly sure  _ how _ you like him or even really what liking him means for you. You think that maybe he likes you; why else would he venture out this early in the morning for a pot of your terrible coffee? 

 

He turns toward back toward you and blinks. Another slow smile spreads across his lips as you sheepishly look away, unable to keep yourself from smiling in return. He lifts his cup back to his lips and takes another drink as the kids behind you continue to laugh and joke and chortle about. Little do you know how much Steve enjoys his late night coffee dates with you. He watches you, just like you watch him, when you’re not looking. He likes your calm spirit. He likes that sometimes you do all the talking, and expect absolutely nothing from him. You pick up on his anxiousness and fill the void with the happenings of your day, knowing and understanding that sometimes he just needs to escape himself. He needs to get away from Captain America. He likes your curly hair, your long fingers, and how bite your lip when you smile. He likes  _ you _ .

 

He’s not sure what the two of you are doing either, he’s got far less experience in this kind of thing than you. But, until the two of you figure it out, he’s more than happy to meet you at two in the morning for some of your terrible coffee. He reaches out toward you, laying his hand palm up on the table as he turns his gaze out toward the street. You don’t hesitate. You never do. You lay your much smaller hand into his and watch as his fingers curl around yours. You smile again. So does he. He then lifts his black coffee to his lips and takes a long drink, smiling softly to himself as he rubs your fingers. 


End file.
